Black Hat Run
by princessposthumous
Summary: With the Machine out of commission, Root will struggle to survive the onslaught of Samaritan and its newest agent – Shaw. An attempt at writing Season 5 with extra helpings of Shoot.
1. Prologue: In the Dark

Ramona opened her eyes in a dimly lit cell. The light flickered overhead as she sat up on a filthy green mattress.

"Day twenty-seven," she muttered, adding another mark to the wall with a pebble sitting at the foot of the steel bed frame. The three and a half weeks without sunlight were not enough to override the twenty-five consecutive years she'd woken up at 6:00 am to go to work for and eventually as Control, but her training hadn't prepared her for this.

The darkness wasn't the problem. The filthy clothes, frigid cell, and grade D meals – those she could deal with. It was the isolation that had slowly begun to unhinge her. No guards, no Greer, no faceless interrogators. Nothing. She screamed at the door for the first day and a half, but the only visitors to her cell were a bowl of cereal and a bottle of water.

As she gulped down this morning's oatmeal, she wondered who was feeding her daughter breakfast, or if…

"They wouldn't dare," she reassured herself out loud. Angry venom pulsed through her abdomen, or maybe it was hunger.

She heard footsteps over the hum of the light and bounded towards the door.

"Hello?!" she bellowed at the door, banging her fists.

"Somebody! Talk to me goddammit! _Please!_ "

To her surprise, she heard keys jingling on the other side of the door.

"Prisoner, step back," a familiar voice ordered. Mouth agape, she stumbled backwards. The door burst open and she was staring down the barrel of a gun. Behind it…

"Shaw," she gasped in disbelief. The assassin gave no acknowledgment.

"Root. What did she tell you during your last encounter?"

"How do you know about that? You're working for Samaritan now?" The assassin stepped closer, bringing the gun's silencer within inches of Ramona's temple.

"Root," she enunciated. "What did she tell you?"

"Please. My daughter- is she okay? Can I talk to her?" Shaw cocked the gun. "I… she was looking for you. Tried to torture it out of me but Harold stopped her. He thought you were dead." A wicked smile teased at the muscles in Shaw's lips as she envisioned the hacker wielding her favorite Taser.

"Please, just let me talk to Greer. Tell him I'll comply if he-"

"Did Root say where she was going?"

"No. They told me about the Stock Exchange, and then my men showed up and they ran. I don't know where to. Please, just let me talk to Julia. I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

Shaw blinked. "This isn't an interrogation."

Ramona's eyes went wide with fear as the realization and two precisely aimed bullets entered her skull. "It's an execution," Shaw informed the corpse on the floor. She watched for a moment as the blood pooled to the rusted drain in the room's center, then turned her ear com on.

"Is it done?" Greer inquired.

"Yeah, I took care of Control."

"Good work, Agent Shaw. That's one more number off the relevant list."

"Mmm," Shaw grunted. Greer chuckled.

"Agent Shaw, if I didn't know better, I'd say you sound positively giddy."

"She killed my partner."

"And by Samaritan's grace you got the revenge you deserve. Tell me, how do you like serving your country?"

"It's just like old times," she muttered to the vacant eyes staring up at her from the cell floor.

"Well, come back to the farm. Samaritan has a new task for you, and I have a feeling you're going to like it. There's an old friend who's looking for you, and it's time to arrange a little get together."


	2. Chapter 1: On the Run

Root massaged her neck as she surveyed the last line of code on the screen.

"Harry, you're sure this will work?" She had been pestering him all week about the plans to reboot the Machine. It wasn't that she doubted his technical expertise, but this was risky and her hands were about to be tied with other matters.

"Miss Groves," he answered. "If there is one thing I have always been able to count on, it is the Machine's ability to adapt to new parameters, no matter how adverse. We just need to be patient." Harold took a sip of his tea.

"Patient? Harold, there's thousands of gigabytes of data to decompress and upload, and the virus you had me write only stores half a megabyte per user. You're trying to move the ocean with a straw!"

Harold sighed. "Root, we've been over this. The Machine needs to hide in plain sight. The new configuration will reach hundreds of millions of computers, but if the virus spreads too quickly, Samaritan will find it and kill it."

"If it spreads this slowly, Samaritan will find and kill you long before that ever happens," she retorted. "Here." Root handed him the flash drive holding the product of her last three weeks of work – what probably amounted to her greatest achievement as a hacker. She looked him earnestly in the eyes before letting go. Turning away to pack up her laptop into a small black duffel bag, she quietly warned him, "You can't outrun them forever."

Root, John, and Harold had been on the run for twenty-seven days since the incident at the power substation. Samaritan agents had chased the three of them from New York City to a motel near Junction City, Kansas. John had insisted on taking Bear out for a midnight walk that night, so he was able to warn them about the three squad cars pulling into the motel parking lot. Their escape route through a broken window left Harold with a nasty gash on his arm, but otherwise the team escaped the encounter relatively unscathed. Their room, however… Even if they managed to clean up the blood, Root imagined the bullet riddled walls and heaps of shattered glass would offer patrons of the Comfort Inn very little comfort indeed.

"And confronting them head on isn't a suicide mission? Root, is there nothing I can do to convince you to stay?"

"She's alive, Harold. I have to find her."

"Yes, but I'm worried that the Shaw you're looking for died that day at the stock exchange. We don't know what they did to her. For all we know, Martine was telling the truth and Sameen is working for them now."

"I shouldn't have killed her," Root reminisced. "Death is too painless and merciful for what she deserves." Her voice cracked. "I'm going to find her, Harold. I just need you to promise me you'll stay alive until I do." Harold gave her a sad smile as she slipped out the door.


	3. Chapter 2: The Hunt Begins

Sameen adjusted her black beanie in the mirror. It wasn't fair. She looked hot, but today it gave her no smug satisfaction. Her mission was too easy. Root didn't stand a chance. She fit the M45 pistol snugly into its holster around her waist. A month ago, she wouldn't have hesitated to shoot Greer or any other Samaritan agent in the head – consequences be damned. Shaw always knew she'd go down fighting.

But now, after the things she had seen, she knew it wasn't worth the split second satisfaction of a good kill. Revenge for the torture and imprisonment would have to wait. Right now she had a mission to accomplish.

"Once you make contact, Samaritan will send you any additional objectives that come up, but your first priority is monitoring your friends and keeping them out of trouble. The machine is dead, so they are no longer on the relevant list, but it's your job to keep it that way," Greer instructed from the doorway.

"Easy enough," Shaw replied. Her face flushed a hint of red as she imagined Root leaning over her shoulder and whispering, "Don't worry honey, I can think of a lot of ways to keep us busy," into her ear. _You won't like it when you find out why_ … Shaw silently replied.

"And Shaw," She turned around to face him. He was smiling. "We'll be watching."

Shaw rolled her eyes and stormed past him out the door. Greer entered the room next door to find Claire sitting behind the one-way mirror.

"How can you send her out like this? You know she's planning to double cross and kill us the first chance she gets."

"You'd be surprised, Agent Mahoney. Samaritan can be quite persuasive."

"Persuasive? You mean the torture? She's not going to forget that."

"Quite right. It's what will help drive her in the months to come. Her treatment was a calculated strategy executed with the utmost precision. Samaritan collected an extensive psychological report and ran more simulations than the human mind can comprehend. I didn't believe it at first, but as far as anyone can tell, Sameen Shaw is a loyal agent of Samaritan.

"So why are you telling me this?"

"Because _I_ don't trust her. She might be able to fool the lie detectors, even a highly omniscient super intelligence, but I know people. They're unpredictable. Samaritan may be able to trick her into betraying her friends, but it hasn't yet seen the extent to which people will hurt themselves just to spite you.

For some reason, Samaritan wants Sameen and her friends alive. Probably thinks it can convert them. Maybe it just wants to gloat, but I won't let anything interfere with the new world order. Follow her. If she does anything to compromise the mission, shoot her and shoot her friends."

"You are aware that her first order is to pretend she's double crossing us."

"Claire, you are a very bright young woman and one of our most promising agents. I have every confidence you will be able to discern Shaw's treachery when it presents itself." Claire grabbed her gun off the desk and forcefully reloaded the magazine.

"That bitch is going down," she taunted. Greer gave her a stern look.

"You are to exercise caution at all times. Shaw has been playing this game far longer than you have. Don't let her see you, but whatever you do, don't let her out of your sight. Sameen is the key to ending the resistance. I won't have her making a mess of this because Samaritan decided to give its new pet too much slack on the leash. I'm counting on you to put her down when the time comes."


	4. Chapter 3: Easy Prey

Root sipped an iced caramel latte as she sifted through the security feeds on her laptop. She had been through nearly 300 hours of footage with no sign yet of Shaw. Her eyes flickered dangerously to the entrance as the bell announced yet another patron entering the local coffee shop. A slender woman with a large purse sauntered up to the cashier.

"Give me a small iced coffee," she ordered the barista. Leaning on the counter, the lady turned and stared directly at her. Root took a steady, even breath as her heart rate climbed. The woman reached into her purse and Root slid her finger over the trigger of the gun under the table. The woman reached in and pulled out a silver credit card.

"I like your hair," she commented wryly at Root.

"Thanks."

It was impossible for Root to suppress her paranoia for even a moment. Though she had her old psychiatrist cover and the dark map of New York City, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching. This time it was the barista.

"Must be an exciting show," she chimed in. "You haven't moved in hours." Root wasn't in the mood to chat with civilians, but this was one of the few coffee shops in the camera dark zone. She'd better play nice.

"You know Alias?" she asked with a weary but kind smile.

"The show about the spies? It's one of my favorites! Though it's been over for a while now. I really loved the plot twists they threw at you. You never knew who you could trust."

"Yeah, but it's somewhat unrealistic. I mean, how can you not realize that the woman you married is spying on you for the enemy when you _are_ a spy?"

"I guess you've never been in love," the barista explained. Root scoffed.

"If it's actually love, there are no sides. You don't have to choose between the love of your life and the greater good. It doesn't work that way because she's all that matters. You do whatever it takes to keep her safe – even if she doesn't return your feelings the same way – because a world without her by your side is nothing compared to the darkness of the world without her at all … Vaughn should have waited. And don't even get me started on their unrealistic portrayal of hacking! It's all fast typing and stylish GUI's instead of chronic neck pain and poor bodily maintenance during the countless hours of hunching over a computer screen to stare at code!" Root's irritation was bleeding profusely into her words. "Not that I would know anything about that," she quietly concluded. The barista didn't bother her again.

Two white chocolate mochas and an Earl Gray Tea later, she saw it: Shaw leaving the institute with two men at her side carrying large boxes. She didn't appear to be their prisoner, but Root knew looks could be deceiving. She watched their trajectory off camera to 4th street. It would be several hours before Root could hack the next feed to continue the trail, but at least now she had a trail.

Work was slow without the Machine. Root missed the way she barely had to think a question before She was speaking the gospel truth in her ear. It didn't matter. Machine or not, Root was going to find her.

After a day of watching traffic and staring down innocent strangers, Root found herself at the entrance to a shabby apartment near the edge of the residential zone downtown. According to the footage, Shaw had entered the building twice in the last 36 hours, and both times she was alone. Root walked over to the mailboxes and couldn't believe her eyes when she saw the label on #316:

S. Shaw.

This was obviously a trap. There was no way Sameen would sign an apartment under her real name. Samaritan was clearly behind it all, and Root wasn't about to be caught off guard a second time. But Shaw had been here. What else was she supposed to do? There was no cavalry to call. She could stake out the building, but it wasn't much safer waiting in the vicinity where Samaritan agents could see her. Besides, sneaking up on Shaw was Root's favorite sport. She had a talent for making the assassin jump and then almost try to kill her.

Revved up by a wave of reckless excitement, Root stepped out in front of the nearest public camera. "And you call yourself omniscient," she taunted. "Just try and catch me – you can't even see me!" Root glanced over at the entrance to the apartment building. She felt invincible, but instinct urged her not to use the front door. There was a fire escape on the south side of the building – not far from the building next door.

 _I'm coming Sameen,_ Root thought to herself as she opened the window and poised herself to make the transition between stories. It was a long way down. _But what do I have to lose? Even God is dead._

Sameen watched with amusement as Root launched herself off a fourth floor balcony and landed on the fire escape of the adjacent building. She could have easily made the jump herself, but had to give Root props for making the leap over almost certain death. _See you in a few._

Shaw climbed down the steep cement steps to the basement and then into the ventilation shaft. The apartment was selected for this mission because the air ducts were so conducive to spying on residents. The hacker was two days ahead of schedule, but Shaw was prepared. She just had to make sure Root found the file on the nightstand and then followed the clues to the warehouse. They would have their confrontation there, where there was only one escape route and enough privacy that no one could conceivably find them out. That is no one but Samaritan.

Before Shaw was deemed field ready, Greer had given her the standard Decima wrist chip, which contained a heart monitor, GPS tracker, and wireless transmitter. If it hadn't been carefully inserted between the veins in her wrist, she would have taken a knife and dug it out of her arm herself. The chip was just for show: insult to injury. Samaritan and Shaw both knew its control over her was more than bone deep.

Sameen made her way up through the ventilation shaft to the prepared apartment room. Root was already there, rifling through the fridge. "I see your engine still runs purely on diesel," Shaw heard from the kitchen. _It's not_ that _much alcohol._ Shaw waited in silence, gripping the gun in her left hand. If Root saw her she would have to revert to plan B, and Shaw had no intention of transporting that body in a bag. Root's tight skinny jeans and black boots glided by as she entered the bedroom. Shaw could only stare hungrily through the grating. Root stood at the entrance for a moment, completely oblivious. _That's it, go to the nightstand._ But Root walked right past the open file on the nightstand and collapsed dramatically on the bed.

"Where are you, Sameen?" Root groaned to herself. _What are you doing Root? Get in and get out._ Root propped herself up on her elbow. Then she noticed the packet on the night stand. She sat up and grabbed it. _Yes!_ She began to leaf through it. "What are they forcing you to do?" She looked at the page with the address for the warehouse, and noticed a date above it. "At least we've got some time." _Damn it Root, you got here too early!_ Root stood up from the bed and walked over to the dresser. She opened the nearest drawer and pulled out one of Shaw's tank tops. With outstretched arms, she studied the garment, evaluating whether or not it truly belonged to Sameen. She pulled it in to her face and inhaled deeply. _Jeez, Root. Show me how you really feel._ With a sly grin, Root opened the next drawer and pulled out a lacy black pair of underwear. "Oooh Sameen, classy!" She brought it in for a whiff.

 _Oh for fuck's sake!_ Shaw pulled the trigger before she could do anything else with the garment.

Root felt something bite her neck and reflexively swiped at it, dropping the bundle of aromatic lace. She saw the cartridge on the floor. Then it hit her- the toxins flooding her bloodstream. Her eyesight was tunneling by the time she hit the ground. A short figure dressed all in black (and probably matching black undergarments) was standing over her.

"Shaw?" She pleaded, except no sound came out.

"I told you I'd end you."


	5. Chapter 4: The Double-Cross

Shaw dragged Root's unconscious body across the warehouse floor. She had acted rashly, but what choice did Root give her? She wasn't about to sit around and let Root play her game of Let's Push All of Shaw's Buttons at Once TM. Samaritan was watching – probably laughing hysterically. At least, that's what all of its human operatives were doing. Root's infatuation with her was something of a running joke back at the farm. Everyone had seen the footage of their kiss and took great pleasure in teasing Shaw about it. Martine especially had started referring to Root as Shaw's little girlfriend because it was a far more effective way than the electroshock therapy to get a reaction out of Shaw. Then Root killed Martine. Shaw had expected Samaritan to exact some form of revenge for the loss of its star disciple, but it seemed content to keep them both alive and well – for now.

 _I swear Root, you're going to get us both killed._ Sweating from the effort, Shaw wondered if Root had this much trouble moving her own lifeless body the last time she abducted her.

"By all means, don't get up," Shaw grunted at Agent Parks, lounging on a nearby chair.

"My orders are not to interfere unless your little _interrogation_ fails." He reclined further under Shaw's glare as she laboriously hoisted her old partner in crime into a metal chair. "Let's get this over with." Shaw forcefully zip tied her wrists and ankles to the chair.

"Have fun with your little girlfriend," Parks jeered. Shaw glared murderously at his backside as he left the little alcove were they were set up.

At last, Shaw picked up the large bucket of cold water sitting nearby and dumped the entire thing over Root's head.

"Wake up, Root," she commanded. It seemed to have done the trick. She spluttered and blinked a few times. Shaw waited a few more seconds to give her time to recover, but looking down at Root's dripping hair and soaked torso immediately realized her mistake. Completely disheveled and glistening with sweat – all tied up for the taking – it was the CIA safe house all over again. Shaw was in control this time around, but Root was not going to make it easy to for her to keep it that way. _Should have used the smelling salts._

"Hi sweetie," Root cooed. "Well doesn't this look familiar? Of course, last time you were the one tied to the chair." Root's cocky smirk was more than Shaw could handle.

"What the fuck, Root? I took six bullets to keep you out of harm's way and now you've gotten yourself caught by Samaritan! What part of 'It's a trap' didn't you understand?!"

"Maybe I'm _exactly_ where I want to be right now." Root hadn't looked away from Shaw since she first opened her eyes. She stared greedily into Sameen's eyes. It was like she hadn't seen the sunlight in years and was trying to soak up every last ray before being sent back to a dark hole in the ground. Shaw briefly considered kicking Root's chair over and silencing the ensuing yelp of surprise with her lips. _That would wipe the smug grin off her face._

"Well if you wanted to be caught by Samaritan, great job! You did it. That's right, I'm working for them now." The light in Root's eyes seemed to dim slightly.

"I thought you might say that," she answered quietly. "I can help you, Sameen."

Shaw laughed. "No you can't. You're not in God-mode anymore. You couldn't save your machine and now you can't even save yourself."

"No? What are you going to do to me Sameen? What could you possibly do that Samaritan hasn't already done ten times worse?" Shaw momentarily averted her eyes. _Just you wait and see._ When she looked back, all the joy had drained from Root's face. "I watched them kill you. You couldn't expect me to just sit this one out when you resurfaced."

"Root, this isn't a game. The entire team is in danger now. I have ten minutes to get their location from you before my partner comes in here and tortures it out of you."

"Ten minutes? If I recall, that's more than enough time for you," Root teased. It was the last straw.

"God, you never know when to quit! You know all of Samaritan is watching this and laughing at us? It's over. We lost, and I'm fucking done with all your shenanigans. You're not the one in control here."

Electricity shot through Root's shoulder. Shaw had used the stun gun on her, but it didn't matter. Shenanigans was her safe word. She'd never used it before, but her meaning was clear: She was acting under duress and didn't mean any of it. Shaw placed a hand on Root's shoulder and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

"If this is what you want, I won't even bother bringing in Parks. I'll torture you myself. John and Harold will be much safer once they're in Samaritan's care and out of your… _slippery hands_." Root flinched as Shaw bit her ear. It caught her so off guard that she nearly dropped the heavy thing that fell behind her back into her hands.

"I'll give you a few minutes to decide who you want to _wield the knife_." She gave Root a meaningful look, then turned to walk out, giving her the time and opportunity she needed to escape.

"Sameen," she called. Shaw stopped and turned around. "It'll always be me," Root grinned dangerously.

Shaw walked over to the computer screen where Agent Parks was watching the live feed of Root in her chair. Feet still up on the table, he swiveled around to face her.

"Damn, Shaw. I knew you were a cold hearted bastard, but I never would have pegged you as a sadist. Tell me, do you torture all your lovers, or is it just the ladies?"

"You call that torture? That's nothing compared to what she puts me through every day," Shaw responded, crossing her arms. Her thumb instinctively grazed over her fifth intercostal, Root's favorite target for the electrodes.

"I hear ya. That Samantha Groves is quite the headache."

"Root," Shaw interjected.

"I was on her tracking team last month, you know, cause Samaritan still had those blind spots. And trying to find her was like looking for a needle in a haystack." _That's it, keep him talking. Just another minute and it'll be safe to check back in._ "–If that needle was a murderous imposter with a really great ass. But hey, now that we've got her in custody I think I'll finally hit that. After you, of course- long as I can watch."

"Her name is Root," Shaw repeated through gritted teeth. "Let's go." she grabbed his arm and nearly threw him out of the chair. Charged with rage, Shaw marched him over towards the corner where they were holding Root. He would see that she had escaped, but without any proof, Shaw would be free to leave the bastard and wait for Root's rescue attempt. They turned the corner.

 _Oh Hell no!_ Root was exactly where she had left her. Shaw looked daggers at that belligerent woman. _Why do I have to do everything myself?_ Anger had Shaw rooted some ten feet away from Root. Parks walked right up to her.

"Samantha Groves. I've been tracking you for a while now. You really are a pain in the ass, and now I get to return the favor. So what's it gonna be? Harold's location, or do I get to see how many amps you can drain before your heart gives out?" He discharged the stun gun in front of her face, creating a small arc of current that glinted in her eyes. Root tilted her head.

"From the looks of it, only a half of a milliamp max. You really should invest in a quality Taser. You know the C2 can discharge up to fifty thousand Volts, and I've heard it's _quite_ sensational." Root looked directly at Shaw, still paralyzed, but now from embarrassment.

"Wrong answer," he chided, and pressed the stun baton into her ribs. Root convulsed in silent agony. "But I'm glad you decided to do it this way. It's more fun for me." He hit her again with the electrodes. "Where's your boss hiding, Samantha?"

"My name is Root." She ripped through the last thread of the zip tie on her wrist and stabbed him in the side with the knife Sameen had dropped in her hands. He groaned and keeled over as she cut through the remaining ties.

"Let's go!" Root jumped out of the chair and grabbed Sameen by the arm.

"Where to?" Shaw turned back to catch one last glimpse of Parks on the warehouse floor.

"I know a place we can use," Root explained. She was still holding Shaw's arm as they fled the scene, completely oblivious of the sniper crosshairs trained on Shaw's back.

"Run, Shaw. Run," Claire sneered.


	6. Chapter 5: The Triple-Cross

"This is it?" Shaw asked blankly. Root had called their four mile run to an end on the granite steps of 4046 Chester Ave. She answered with a smile, grabbing a keyring from her pocket and twirling it playfully around her index finger. Shaw thought she heard a gasp for air as Root turned around and unlocked the door. _Sounds like someone's been slacking on their cardio._ She watched with amusement as Root struggled not to wheeze climbing the stairs.

Root entered the apartment room first. "You'll be safe here." Sameen felt her mischievous gaze drop over the length of her form. "Or at least, safe from Samaritan." It was usually in this moment, still riding on a wave of adrenaline and endorphins, that Sameen would crash her lips into Root's and push her into the wall until the inevitable Taser contacts or grazing edge of a knife lost her the upper hand. Root always had a surprise up her sleeves.

It would be strange, going back to the way things were, pretending everything was normal when Samaritan was spying through her eyes and ears, not to mention the phone in her coat pocket and the chip in her arm. Tracing the line of the scar on her wrist, she wondered if Decima would know what she was up to just by the vitals captured on the chip. Shaw would gladly do what was necessary to keep Root from getting suspicious, but she was not about to give Samaritan's agents a front row seat to her most private affairs. Especially not when they had set up a betting pool for when and how she and Root would hook up again. _I will destroy each and every one of those bastards,_ she vowed.

Root was still staring. She looked ragged as hell- and just as dangerous with her messy wet hair creeping over her eyes, and blood crusted hand promising more violence. Her fiendish eyes were just starting to betray a hint of concern as the silence continued. The blood rushing to Shaw's legs reminded her just how much she had missed this sight- also that she probably shouldn't stand still after such intense physical activity. _There is one way to cool down after a mission_ , Shaw's brain taunted. _Keep moving_ , she countered.

Shaw entered the doorway and dropped her coat on the counter. "What is this place?" She paced around the kitchen, looking at the empty cabinets, the sparse furniture, and the undecorated walls- anywhere but at Root, who had moved to the sink to wash the blood off her hands.

"An old number's. You remember the broker whose wife tried to murder him for running away with the mistress? This is her place." Root opened a nearby drawer and started rummaging through the contents.

"The mistress?"

"The wife." Root pulled out a gun. "She'll be residing in the Albion Correctional Facility for the next ten to fifteen years, but the apartment's leased through December." She unloaded the magazine to count the ammo.

"The machine told you all that? I thought…"

"That was before." She knocked the magazine back in place and looked up grimly. "But you can't silence Her forever."

"So what now?" Shaw looked at the gun in Root's hands, trying not to imagine those practiced hands running all up and down her body. Root climbed onto the kitchen table, feet resting on the only kitchen chair.

"Now we wait," she replied matter-of-factly.

"Wait. Wait? You mean you came to get me and you don't even have a plan?" Shaw asked incredulously, also disappointed that Root had missed a perfectly good opening to steer the conversation toward the bedroom.

"Saving you was the plan." Root looked up into Shaw's eyes. The irritation was evident in both their expressions.

"I don't know what rescue attempt you just witnessed, but I wasn't the one who needed saving."

"No? You were just _hanging out_ with Samaritan operatives," she retorted accusingly.

"What do you want me to say, Root? That I never broke? That I never did any of Samaritan's dirty work? After what they did to me… I did a lot of things I'm not proud of, but I came with you because I thought there was still hope that I could save lives."

"There is still hope, but right now I need to keep you safe," Root urged. _Well that makes two of us,_ Shaw mused.

"Cut the crap. Tell me what's going on or I walk." Shaw almost winced at her last words. The whole point of this operation was for her to tail Root very closely. But Root would never call her bluff, and being kept out of the loop wasn't an option.

Root paused for a moment, tactfully weighing her options. She glanced at the door, perhaps calculating whether or not she could beat Shaw to it. "Come on. We both know you can't keep me here against my will," Shaw bragged.

"Oooh, is that a challenge?" Root raised her eyebrow suggestively and gestured with the gun. Shaw stepped right up in Root's face, glaring into those mirthful eyes.

"It's a promise. Now what the hell is going on?" The laughter in Root's eyes faded as she carefully began to craft a response.

"Harold has a highly compressed version of the machine's source code. Our instructions are to wait for the machine to finish uploading to a massively distributed network of computers, and then make contact."

Shaw felt the blood draining again. If they managed to restart the Machine, the whole team would make it back onto Samaritan's hit list.

"Harold's trying to restart the Machine?" _I have to stop him._ "I have to help him," Shaw pleaded.

"Harold will be fine." Root seemed to be reminding herself. "He's got that slobbering guard dog watching over him." Shaw frowned. "And Bear," she explained defensively. Root knew better than to say anything bad about the dog in front of Sameen. Shaw rolled her eyes.

"Root, you know I'd be more help than John. I know how these Samaritan agents work." Root paused again, pursing her lips. "What? What aren't you telling me?"

"Harold- doesn't think it's safe for us to… reunite so soon." She could see the anger spreading through Shaw's expression. "He thinks Samaritan might have figured out a way to track you while you were…" Shaw glared.

"No shit, they put a huge fucking tracker in my arm." She pointed to the scar on her wrist.

"A tracker? So they still need the hardware-" Root dropped the gun on the table to take Shaw's wrist in both of her hands. "We need to get this out immediately." Shaw pulled a knife out of the holster at her thigh. She held the handle out towards Root, who hesitantly reached out for it. Shaw held onto the blade as she tried to take the knife from her.

"Tomorrow we go find Harold."

"I'll talk to him," Root amended. "I promise." Shaw glared for a few more seconds before letting go of the knife.

Shaw opened all the kitchen cabinets before she spotted the liquor inside the fridge.

"I would have done this myself," she explained, taking a swig from the bottle of vodka. "But there's a lot of important veins in the wrist, and it's kind of a job for two hands." Root smirked at Shaw, who shook her head and walked away to hide the fact that she was turning red.

"Wash your hands." Shaw instructed. "And the table." She took another drink from the bottle, then emptied some of it over the knife and a pair of tweezers Root had set on the counter. When the surface was clean, Shaw plopped her arm on the table. "Make the incision along the scar. No more than a centimeter deep." Root gave her one last uneasy look, then made the cut with her knife.

"Did you feel it with the knife?" Shaw asked through gritted teeth.

"I think so." Root answered nervously, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

"Hey," Shaw interrupted as she went for the tweezers. "Don't sever any arteries or tendons while you're in there. I can still break you with my other hand." Root smiled, then gently slid the tweezers inside the incision.

Shaw grimaced, but kept perfectly still as Root dug around for the chip.

"I've got it!" Very slowly, she pulled out a bloody rectangle the size of a quarter. Root held it up right in front of her face. "Hmm… Here's the antenna, and that's the microcontroller, but I don't know what this thing is. It doesn't look like any circuit component I've ever seen."

Shaw grabbed it from the tweezers and looked closely at the rectangular packet mounted on the chip. She sniffed it, then tossed the thing several yards away on the ground in disgust. She took the gun off the table and fired. The shot was only slightly louder than the resulting explosion from the chip.

"Shit, there was enough C4 in that thing to blow my hand clean off! Come on, let's go." She grabbed Root's arm. Root was still staring in horror at the blackened mess on the floor as they fled the apartment.

The next safe house was two miles away. Root had used this elderly couple's apartment several times before as a hideout because they spent most of the year in Florida.

"Do you think they were able to track us here?" Shaw asked, closing the door behind her.

"I don't think so." By now Root was panting openly. "We stayed in the camera dead zone and it's dark outside. But there might be another tracker on you. Maybe I should check you for scars," she suggested, raising her eyebrows and blatantly checking Shaw out. Yet again, Shaw found herself rolling her eyes. But this time, she reached out and pulled Root's face towards her. As their lips crashed together, Shaw pushed Root through the bedroom door and onto the ugly, flower patterned queen bed.

One by one, Shaw's clothes joined Root's in a careless heap on the bedroom floor. Shaw sat up tall straddling her partner, daring that troublemaker to try something while she was on top pinning her down.

"See? No new scars." Shaw confidently gestured at naked frame.

"I don't think I've checked everywhere," Root answered, tracing her hands up Shaw's hips. Shaw grabbed those hands off her hips and drew them back over Root's head.

"Well," she replied, alternating kisses and bites down Root's neck. "I think we're safe for tonight."

Root chuckled softly and nuzzled into her ear. "Sameen, when will you learn?" Shaw felt something cold against her wrist and heard a series of clicks. "You're never safe from me." Root had cuffed her wrist to the bed frame.

"Bastard!" With her left hand, Shaw clawed at the restraint and tried to rip it from the frame. But it was too late. Root had flipped them over so she was on top. Finding the shackle intractable, Shaw grabbed at Root's messy, damp hair instead. "Let me go!" Her grip on the fistful of hair loosened as Root left a trail of bite marks down her vulnerable stomach. Shaw's resistance subsided completely as she realized Root's final destination.

"Never," Root answered, diving into Shaw tongue first.


	7. Chapter 6: A Virtual Voyeur

Inside the inquiry room, half a dozen men with twice as many beers huddled around a dark screen, straining their ears to hear the breathy moans over the static.

"This algorithm is crap. Go back to the low pass filter," Kirk complained.

"No, try the median filter," Evan implored.

"Shhh," the other four hushed them. Jeff pushed the volume button again, but it was already at the maximum. The white noise was louder than their conversation, but under it they could just make out the escalating moans and rhythmic creaking of the bed. A moment later, the agents were all covering their ears as Shaw's deafening cries exploded from the room's speakers. They all burst into laughter.

The door flew open and the laughter stopped. The static from the speakers was the only sound to be heard as Agent Lambert walked in. They waited in quiet agony to see if he was going to scold them for gaining unauthorized access to the room or for not inviting him to the party.

An earsplitting crash resounded through the speakers as metal grinded against metal. Through the hiss they heard Shaw's distorted voice.

"You didn't think that would be enough to hold me?"

"No, but this might," a higher pitched voice answered, followed by a momentous groan. A roar of laughter escaped McLaughlin's mouth and the whole room joined him, including Jeremy Lambert.

"Haha! Who's a guy gotta shoot to get a beer around here?" he joked. Kirk tossed him a beer as they all turned back to the dark monitor.

"What's happening?! Come on!" Matheson slammed the side of the monitor with his fist.

"What, you boys couldn't get visual?" Jeremy asked.

"Shaw's phone is in the other room," Evan explained.

"Did you try the implanted chip? The sound's a bit fuzzy but it should work. Oooh, while you're at it you should also check her blood flow and heart rate!"

"You didn't hear? Her girlfriend cut her open and pulled it out of her."

"No shit, the boss is not going to like that. What's all that noise?"

"Her phone's in the other room so we had to turn the volume way up. Even with the filtering the noise is amplified too much," Evan explained.

"That's because you need someone smarter. Samaritan, would you please clean up this noise?" Jeremy requested. The white noise gargled for a few seconds, then dropped to a whisper. They could now clearly discern the heavy breathing of the couple through the door.

"Whoa!"

"Nice!"

"Samaritan's such a bro."

"Parker's gonna be so mad he missed this when he gets out of the hospital," Matheson commented.

"You're welcome," Jeremy boasted. "As for the visuals, I might have a man on the inside who could help us. Samaritan, call Claire Mahoney for me." Lambert stood up taller and readjusted his shirt collar.

"Agent Mahoney, how are you coming with the visuals?"

"Are you kidding me?! I can hear them fucking from a mile away. No one needs to see that shit," the small voice carried loudly from the speakers. The rest of the crew in the room sniggered. They had turned to watch him.

"Your orders were to not let them out of your sight," he was smirking back at them all, but managed a stern tone.

"Yeah, I don't take orders from you," she retorted. He started to turn red. They were all watching him, but no one was laughing or even smiling.

"Listen you little piece of-"

"Mr. Lambert," a cold voice resonated from behind. "May we have the room?" With a small wave of his hand, Greer sent the other operatives fleeing the Inquiry Room. "Mr. Lambert," he continued once the others had left. "The Inquiry Room is not some toy to be used to fulfill your juvenile fantasies. There is real work to be done here, and there are some things those boys are not meant to know."

"Sir, I-"

"You are not to speak of Claire's mission. Ever. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." With a shake of his head Greer sent Agent Lambert shuffling from the room.

"Claire, are you still listening?"

"Yes, I can hear you."

"I need you to confirm that you have visuals _now_."

"But sir, they're-"

"I told you not to let Sameen Shaw out of your sight. You get eyes on her and you don't blink. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," she groaned. Claire hung up the phone in the apartment next to Root and Shaw. She fished around the suitcase for the camera kit, then deftly snaked the fiber-optic cable through the air vent. Seeing the video up on her laptop screen, she shut the lid in disgust.

"Hey Samaritan, wake me up when they're done fucking," she told her phone, turning up the volume on her headphones to drown out the noises from next door. Peacefully, she drifted off to sleep until sunrise.


	8. Chapter 7: That Feeling

Shaw awoke tangled in the sheets next to Root. The stripes of blood all over the bed reminded her of the previous night's impromptu surgery and what had followed. The sheets were ruined, but she had managed to escape the handcuffs.

Light was pouring in through the window drapes, but Root was still sleeping like she'd been drugged. Of course Shaw had considered using a sedative to give herself time to slip away, but somehow that felt like cheating. She sneered at the innocent and serene expression Root wore as she slept, as if she wasn't the same fiendish hell-creature who drugged her that time to keep her underground. Now she regretted not using it. It was only fair.

But Root was out, and it was time to call them. Unpleasant, but necessary. Carefully, she untangled her legs from Root's and slid out of bed. She silently gathered her clothes, dressed in the other room, and left without a sound.

Three blocks away and still walking, she dialed the number.

"Sameen Shaw," that voice jeered. She answered Agent Lambert with steely silence. "I heard you had quite a night. Tell me, what's it like screwing your girlfriend?"

Shaw stopped dead in her tracks. "I mean, betraying her to Samaritan like this must be difficult, right? Even for a sociopath like you."

"This sociopath is going to come find you and put a bullet in your mouth if you don't shut it."

"Don't be so dramatic, Shaw. We both know who work for, and you've got quite a lot of explaining to do, like why you removed the chip in your wrist and why poor Parks ended up in the hospital."

"Same reason I'll send you there." Shaw held the phone right up to her mouth like a walky-talky. "I didn't like his attitude," she threatened through her gritted teeth.

"Testy!" he complained. "I thought you'd be in a better mood after everything your girlfriend did last night. Unless…" He gasped dramatically. "Did she break something during the surgery? I guess your medical expertise hasn't rubbed off on her yet."

"No, I can still shoot that dumb smirk off your face from 100 yards out."

"What a shame. We'll just have to take extra precautions when we get you fitted for a new one."

Shaw glared at the pedestrians passing her on the sidewalk.

"Try that and you'll need to get fitted for some new hands." Her words were met with chuckles.

"Shaw, you know as much as I find your empty threats endearing, I'm required to inform you that there will be serious repercussions if you continue to irritate Samaritan the way you have."

"You mean irritate you? I'm doing my job. You're just getting in the way, forcing me to keep checking in with you and making me keep a giant fucking tracker in my wrist? It's like you want me to get caught."

"Sameen, Sameen… I would love nothing more than for you to confess everything to your little girlfriend. My greatest hope is that you'll go home to her right now and whisper all the terrible things you've done in her ear. Because the second you do, I get to put a bullet between your eyes- assuming she doesn't kill you first for betraying her."

"Is that supposed to scare me? Your aim is shit."

"Perhaps," he admitted, "but Root's a pretty good shot. Tell me, do you think she'll forgive you?"

Shaw glowered at the traffic camera on the street corner.

"Your time's running out, Shaw. Find Harold before he fixes the machine or Samaritan revokes that little stay of execution for you and your friends. Just keep probing your girlfriend. I'm sure she'll give you his location soon."

The conversation left a burning ache in her gut. Not rage. She yearned to blast that man's head into oblivion, but it was already part of the plan, so she had no reason to fixate on it. It wasn't guilt. She was doing exactly what needed to be done, what no one else could do. She didn't need Root's forgiveness. Forgiveness had no utility. Forgiveness wouldn't save the world from Samaritan. With a growing sense of unease, Shaw continued to pace down the sidewalk.

It must have been fate that brought her to that street corner. The one place she would find the solution to all her problems. A smile cracked the side of her mouth as she recognized the familiar face.

"Hi Ron," she greeted warmly. "Give me five hot dogs with everything you've got."

Back from hiatus. I hope you've enjoyed so far.


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